


Conjugium Maleficarum

by dulcetta



Category: The Witch (2016)
Genre: Bestiality, Horror, Impregnation, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Horror, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulcetta/pseuds/dulcetta
Summary: All throughout the woods she heard the witches calling.
Relationships: Black Philip/Thomasin (The Witch)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	Conjugium Maleficarum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriamKenneath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/gifts).



Thomasin regarded the heavy book laying open upon the table.

She thought of the life she would be leaving behind her, the future that would never be. Not sent away to serve strangers, to keep their house and raise their children. Not sold to a man she did not know, to bear his babes and do as he bid. She would see the world, eat of bright and unknown fruits, live with luxuries the like of which she remembered from her childhood in England.

Black Philip promised her this.

 _It is my choosing_ , she thought, and set ink to paper.

All throughout the woods she heard the witches calling. Thoughts of her new life carried her through the trees and given her courage to step into the witches circle. And once she had, she flew.

* * *

The walls of the forest closed in around her once more as Thomasin fell to earth. The fire sparked and crackled in the midst of the circle, casting shadows which prowled around them as wild creatures.

Still the witches sang out around her and Thomasin found the words were no longer strange and bestial but familiar and well-known as her own native tongue. _Sister,_ they named her, howling, chanting. All about her the witches gathered, their hands pressed her own, they pinched her cheeks and stroked her hair.

“Long have we waited for thee,” one of them whispered in her ear.

“Drink of this.” The witch standing on her left lifted a chalice to Thomasin’s lips and she drank. The mead was sweeter than anything she could remember tasting, the honeyed cake pressed to her lips soon after was richer still.

“We art thy family now,” the youngest said with a smile and pressed a sticky kiss to Thomasin’s mouth. “Do as our Lord bids thee, and all shall be yours.”

Though there was no telling tramp of hooves to be heard, Thomasin knew when Black Philip drew close.

“My Lord,” the witches hailed him, dropping to their knees. “My Master.”

Strong hands pulled upon Thomasin’s wrists, until she too was prostrate before the dark shape of Black Philip.

In the hutch he had passed behind her and Thomasin had felt the brush of rich cloth against her skin, smooth leather gloves had covered the hand that fell upon her shoulder. Now there was naught but the prickle of wiry fur and a huff of hot breath upon her neck. Thomasin tried to turn her head and look but the witch closest caught her face with both hands and held her fast as she knelt, upon her knees with her fingers digging into the moss and mud.

“Thou hast signed the book,” the witch said and her sisters murmured an agreement.

“Thou hast drank and ate of him,” another intoned and rough hands fell upon her hips to hold them while others drew her loosened hair back from her face.

“Submit thee now to the rites.”

Fear quickened Thomasin’s blood and horror yawned in her gut as, from behind, Black Philip mounted her.

She had seen animals rut with other animals before and she had heard whispers of other perversions, strictly condemned as the filthiest of sins. Those who indulged in such acts were damned to hell, and yet, Thomasin thought, was she not already damned?

Black Philip’s hooves scraped at her skin and the animal smell of his hide prickled her nose. The heat of his body burned like coals, sweat beaded at the small of her back and ran down her temples as the witches spread her knees apart and bid her part her thighs.

Thomasin had been pious and chaste her whole life. Although she may have had odd dreams and fancies, never had she done more than think on what acts might be required between man and wife to birth a babe. She confessed those thoughts to God, as well as the strange heat that built low in her belly when they rode in the trap across bumpy terrain. She’d crossed her legs and done what she could to ignore it then, knowing it was wicked. Never had she touched herself there, nor could anyone else claim to have done so.

Until now.

Black Philip pressed against her, insistent, and the witches hurried to guide and ease his way. Thomasin sobbed aloud at the ache of it, her fingers clutched at the earth, mouth wide and gasping at the sting as her maidenhead was riven.

“Sister,” the witches crooned. _“Wife.”_

The throbbing stretch as he moved within her felt unnatural and impossibly vast. No mortal man could possess such a thing, Thomasin was sure of it. Behind her, Black Philip tossed his head and panted hard, devilish eyes rolling in their sockets.

Thomasin’s head swam with the mead and the sweetened smoke of the fire. The pain was sharp and sickening but there was a different sensation growing in her loins, stronger than gentle rocking of the cart had ever offered. It rose and swelled in her belly like the unrelenting lapping of waves and the wandering hands of the witches drove it to new peaks as they caressed her skin and fondled her breasts.

Black Philip sped his thrusts and Thomasin fell forward upon her arms, bracing her hands in the dirt when he hunched down over her and pinned her body against the earth. Terrible pleasure built in Thomasin as Black Philip ravaged her, she panted with it, mouth slack and eyes glazed.

Such sounds and cries were torn from Thomasin’s throat as the beast took her, they echoed through the woods along with Black Philip’s animalistic grunts to form a new and wicked spell. Just as the thrill of her feet leaving the ground as she flew had sent Thomasin’s mind reeling, so now did the unrelenting rutting of Black Philip within her. The sin of lust was gratifying indeed.

Black Philip let out a monstrous shriek, the like of which Thomasin had never heard, and bearing her down heavily he stilled his thrusts, plunging one last time into the very heart of her until Thomasin would have sworn she felt the perverse stretch of his member in her throat. A terrible wetness spilled within her, so hot it burned and stung her flesh, and Thomasin renewed her struggles, to no avail.

The pulse of it went on and on until she was glutted with it. The witches soothed her, rubbing her cramping belly and embracing Thomasin gleefully. When Black Philip pulled out of her, she felt the hot, wet spill of it gush out of her and run down her thighs. The witches were quick to catch the fluids and press them back inside with ungentle fingers.

“It is done.” Black Philip’s voice just was sibilant and silken as before. He stepped over Thomasin’ssenseless body, retreating once more into the darkness, and she watched him go from where she lay upon the forest floor.

 _Sister,_ the witches had named her. _Wife._

 _“Mother,”_ they sang now, and lay kisses upon her brow.

* * *

Thomasin thought, _It is my choosing._

The devil spake, _I will guide thy hand._


End file.
